Cutting Edge

by Robert W. Walker

  “But if it's true... if it's only partially true, and we don't have all the pieces by any means...”

  “Then who? Who's involved? I mean, God knows who such a conspiracy might involve.”

  “Lawrence?”

  “You instinctively disliked him from day one, didn't you? I know I have from the day I met the man.”

  “Well, yeah... but... maybe it's just my dislike for authority and white men in control of my life.”

  “He stood in your way, didn't he?” She hammered her point home. “And he's stood in my way since the first moment I showed concern over the Mootry case. Maybe his thick headedness has a cause I was never supposed to uncover.”

  “You're jumping to conclusions,” he said, trying to caution Meredyth.

  “And who else knew we were coming to South Dakota? We were set up, pure and simple.”

  “The FBI obviously knew about us, and from what Price and Bullock said, almost anyone could track us cybernetically. Damn... damn, but you're right about one thing.”

  “What's that?”

  “Someone set us up for murder, and I should go after them, track them,” he told her now.

  “No, there's too many of them, and obviously they've planned their escape route, know exactly where they're going. You'll just be wasting your time. Besides, you get out there alone... have another blackout,

  and you could be... killed.”

  “It wasn't a blackout.”

  “I'll keep your secrets, Lucas, but don't lie to me.”

  He stood up and marched back to the hotel,

  leaving her to trail after him.

  Inside, Lucas asked one of the paramedics how it looked for the Indian boy.

  “He's in shock at the moment, but prognosis appears good. He'll survive, thanks to the quick thinking of whoever dressed the wound.”

  The paramedics were followed by the local police, some of whom recognized Stonecoat and Sanger from earlier.

  There were questions and reports to be filled out.

  They spent some time attempting to change their flight. They were able to do so, taking a flight leaving at 5 A.M. Lucas felt it best if they not stick to their original exit from South Dakota, that a change of plans was in order.

  After their travel plans were arranged, Lucas asked Meredyth about how well she knew Randy Oglesby. “What're you implying?

  That Randy somehow had something to do with the attack on us tonight? No, no... that's nonsense.”

  “He's capable of learning anything about anything on that computer of his. That doesn't make him a moral degenerate.”

  “He said he played the game, that Helsinger's Pit, as a child.”

  “Everybody his age played that game.”

  “All right, but are you sure you can trust him?”

  “I... I'd trust Randy with my life, yes.”

  “All right, then you're about to do just that. Telephone him.”

  'Telephone him now? It's two A.M.”

  “Call him and ask him to find out who ministered to Judge Mootry's spiritual, medical and legal needs.”

  “Mootry's minister, his doctor and his lawyer?”

  “That's right. He can do it from his PC, according to the FBI.”

  “All right, and if he supplies us with the names?”

  “We go talk to Mootry's closest confidants.”

  “Disregarding Pardee and Amelford, Captain Lawrence and protocol?”

  “When people start threatening my life and the lives of my friends, Doctor, to hell with protocol.”

  She started to dial the number, but Lucas, taking no chances, suggested they call from the desk. “They might have bugged our phones,” he explained.

  She shrugged her agreement and they made the call from the lobby.

  The ringing on the other end continued four times, waking Randy from a sound sleep. Beside him groaned his newfound love, Ms. Darlene Muentes, who still thought he was a detective named Pardee. When Meredyth announced herself, Randy seemed surprised; it was an extremely unusual hour to be calling from South Dakota.

  “Dr. Sanger! Great to hear from you. Is everything all right?”

  “Fine. I'll explain everything when we get back,” she said noncommittally. “Listen, Randy, Stonecoat and I need another favor of you.”

  “Anything to help.”

  She was getting as paranoid as Lucas, she thought now, as to her ear he sounded almost too willing, too anxious to help. But then, he always was, always had been... She had always believed him somewhat love struck toward her, and while at first it had caused some consternation, the two of them had created a zone in which they could work together. Randy was nothing but a pure gentleman at all times, never suggesting anything but a business relationship, and yet there had remained something of the tension of their first meeting in the air between them ever since.

  “What is it, Meredyth? How can I help?”

  “We need you to track down the name of Mootry's personal physician, his legal and financial advisor, and his priest.”

  “He had a priest?”

  “Well, no... I mean, we don't know, but we want to talk to anyone giving him close advice in these three areas.”

  “I see.”

  “Can you do it?” she asked, knowing that he could, and knowing that he loved a challenge, and knowing that he loved to have her ask, so he could bedazzle her with his computerese.

  “Sure... should be a snap. I have enough records on the man to tap into that, sure. It may be I get an agency or a church instead of a name, though.”

  “See what you can find out, Randy, and thanks.”

  “Sure, no sweat, Dr. Sanger. You sure now that every-thing's okay with you?”

  “Just fine. We'll be back in Houston—”

  Stonecoat cautioned her with a finger to his lips.

  “—soon as we can. Be in touch then.”

  “You got it. Doctor.”

  She hung up, feeling badly that she'd suspected Randy in the least. She wondered if Stonecoat trusted anyone, including her.

  TWENTY -SIX

  When they arrived at Houston Intercontinental Airport, no one was there to greet them, as no one knew they were arriving so early. They'd gotten some sleep on the plane, but not much, and both Lucas and Meredyth wanted to go home, shower and rest, both knowing that Captain Phillip Lawrence would be wanting a briefing on South Dakota by ten A.M. at the latest.

  They took a cab from the airport, dropping her first, their good-bye subdued and matter-of-fact. “See you at the precinct house,” he had said.

  “Will do,” she replied.

  “And neither of us talks to Lawrence alone.”

  She nodded her assent. “And be careful. If they mugged you once, they can do it again.”

  “They won't get another chance.”

  He sped off in the cab, leaving her to watch after him, wondering if she'd been wrong to drag him into all this cloak-and-dagger business with her. She admired his grit, his determination, and since firing off his weapon, he seemed somehow different, more soldierly, more confident, if that was possible.

  She went in and upstairs to her apartment, kicked off her shoes, and began tearing away clothing, anxious for a shower and a few winks before having to face Lawrence.

  After she stepped from the shower, Meredyth noticed that the message light on her answering machine was blinking. She pressed the button. There were two messages from Conrad, anxious about her whereabouts, making her wonder if it was to be like this, or worse, after their marriage. The third message was from a carpet-cleaning company that wanted to do her carpets in the worst way, and the fourth was from Randy Oglesby, who claimed to have hit pay dirt with the priest, the lawyer and the doctor, giving her a list of names. She grabbed a pen and jotted the names down on a list.

  Priest—Father Franklin Aguilar

  Doctor—Sterling Washburn

  Lawyer—Pierce Dalton

  She had not heard of any of these men, so why did the list see
m so sinister? How had Randy so quickly and efficiently supplied the names? Could cyberinvestigating be that easy? Or was Stonecoat right about Randy? It simply didn't seem possible, but she was beginning to see bogeymen everywhere.

  She immediately dialed Lucas's number, wondering if her line might not be bugged here in her apartment. She hung up, but then she rationalized that if her line was bugged, the so-called cult of assassins who had tried the night before to take her life, along with Lucas's, had already heard Randy's message to her. She dialed again and got Lucas on the second ring. “What is it?” he asked nastily. “It's me, Meredyth. I've got the list of names.”

  “Names?”

  “The ones we discussed, remember?”

  “Oh, oh, yeah, sure. It'll keep till ten, won't it?”

  “Yeah, just thought you'd like to know Randy worked all night on our behalf to get this information.”

  “Sounds like he's motivated.”

  “He'd do anything for me.”

  “That doesn't surprise me.”

  She sensed he was about to hang up. “Wait. In case something should, you know, happen to me? The priest's name is Father Frank Aguilar; the lawyer's name is Pierce Dalton—”

  “Pierce? That's appropriate.”

  “And the doctor's name is Sterling Washburn. Are you writing this down?”

  “Speak with you later.” He sounded exhausted, she thought. Perhaps he'd get some sleep tonight, despite his chronic insomnia.

  “We're in this together, now. Lucas, I don't want to learn of your going to see any of these people without me. You promise?” He assured her and Meredyth hung up, wondering if she could trust him to keep his word on this.

  At ten in the morning they got their meeting with Captain Phil Lawrence, but neither of them was anxious to face the man at this point. They were both filled with suspicions, none of which could be proven. Still, the report they gave opened the captain's eyes, wide, then wider still, as he listened to the events they relayed. They told him about the attack at the lodge, but they'd decided to keep the FBI connection to themselves at this point. It was a decision they had made before going into Lawrence's office.

  Lawrence immediately wanted to know, “Why didn't you stay downtown at the damned Wagon Wheel where we had the two of you booked in the first place?”

  “The Prairie Wind was closer to the crime scene,” lied Lucas. “And as it turned out, there was a great deal to do at the scene. It grew late.”

  “That about sums it up. Captain,” she agreed. “Now we know for certain we're dealing with a fanatical fringe group, but what motive have they?” Lawrence replied. “We've kicked around a few theories,” suggested Lucas. “One's pretty far-fetched, having to do with... vampires.”

  “Vampires?” Lawrence looked genuinely amazed. “What about vampires?”

  “More to the point, our killers may be playing out some sick thought they're saving the world from vampires, that they have some sort of genetic link with vampire stalkers of the past,” Meredyth suggested in her best psychological mumbo-jumbo voice, but it struck Lucas as quite plausible the way she orchestrated the words.

  “That is far-out, Gary Larson far-out,” Lawrence replied. “So, what is your next move, Dr. Sanger, Officer Stonecoat?”

  “Pardon me, sir?” asked Lucas. “But are you saying we're still on the case?”

  “Well, what with Pardee and Amelford dragging their butts... I guess I was a bit hasty, premature in my judgments earlier, Dr. Sanger,” he lamely apologized as she watched him squirm on the hook.

  “Well, sir,” countered Lucas, letting him off the proverbial hook, “we're honestly at a dead end ourselves. We're intending to return to the Cold Room, go back over the files, see what shakes out there, if anything.”

  “You may's well know that Pardee and Amelford have lodged a formal complaint with the commissioner as to how we're handling things.”

  “Really?”

  “Something about your having cut them off from what you know; something about having had something analyzed at an independent lab and not sharing the results?”

  Lucas shook his head as if he simply could not possibly begin to understand the attitude held by the other two detectives.

  “This word comes from Commander Andrew Bryce, who's getting an earful of complaints about me lately...” His lingering glower told Meredyth he was still smarting from her having done the same earlier.

  'They've got a nerve,” Meredyth defiantly retaliated. “They haven't got what you cops call jack shit! Nor have they shared a shred of information on the case with Lucas and me, sir.”

  “Well, it was their case. And as for jack shit, Doctor, I'm given to understand you got a certain Jack shit killed up at Hempstead. Knifed through the heart.”

  Lucas instantly defended her. “Now, hold on, Captain, you can't blame Meredyth for Covey's murder.”

  “Commander Bryce turned this case over to us,” she defended herself.

  “He didn't turn it over to you. He told you to work with the officers already assigned.”

  “We'd be happy to; it's Pardee and Amelford who don't want any part of us, except maybe to bash Lucas over the head.”

  “What's that?”

  “Nothing, sir.”

  “Then you have had a run-in with those two?”

  “Nothing of consequence, sir.” Lucas glared at her for bringing it up, but she was studying Phil Lawrence's every reaction, to gauge the extent or the lack of surprise in his demeanor, so she paid no attention to Lucas's reaction.

  “File your written reports with Sergeant Kelton. See that I have them by the end of the business day,” he told them. “Keep me informed.”

  They were dismissed and left the room.

  “You were right about the bastard, Lucas.”

  “Right? About Lawrence?”

  “He hardly budged when we told him about the possible vampire connection. He's playing it all just too cool.”

  “Maybe he's had orders and medication from his doctor to keep cool...”

  “I tell you, he knows something, and he's keeping it close to his chest.”

  “He keeps all his cards there, and I assume he always has.”

  “Further evidence he can't be trusted.”

  “Do you think he may be covering for someone else?”

  “Don't know... I don't know. All I know for sure is that I can't trust him.”

  Randy Oglesby, rumbling down the stairwell two steps at a time, shouted, “I need to see you, Dr. Sanger!”

  She turned, and with Lucas following, they went to Meredyth's office.

  “Do you think it's wise talking here?” asked Lucas, signaling the open window they had found earlier.

  “Come on,” she said, leading them into the ladies' room.

  There Randy, gulping on air, said, “About the three names I gave you.”

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “All three went to Texas Christian University.”

  “Ahh, odd coincidence?” suggested Lucas.

  “Just like Mootry, Little, and Palmer at one time or another,” Randy shot back.

  “You're kidding?”

  “The web is woven tight,” replied Lucas.

  “Damned tight,” agreed Randy. “I'm getting so I don't trust anybody, and I do mean anybody... And the deeper I get in, the more paranoid I'm getting. Meanwhile, my personal life is a wreck. You wouldn't believe what I've done to my good name. My life's... well, I'm living a lie.”

  “Living a lie?” she asked.

  Lucas looked knowingly across at her.

  “I told Darlene that I'm, well, that my name's James Pardee, that I'm a homicide detective with the HPD, and she believed it, and it all started when I went to fetch those crystal goblets you had examined. Darlene works for the lab. Oh, and I had the goblets locked up in a safe deposit box.” He surreptitiously handed the key over to Lucas.

  Lucas laughed helplessly and Meredyth joined him, all the while apologizing for laugh
ing at Randy's predicament. Stuttering and stumbling for the words, she told Randy, “You have no idea what we were thinking your big, bad secret might be.”

  He only looked perplexed. “Nothing could be worse than this....”

  Again Meredyth and Lucas laughed.

  Armed now with additional information supplied by Randy Oglesby, Meredyth and Lucas drove across town. They decided to pay a visit to each of the three people on the list supplied them by Randy's computer hacking. They first went to see Mootry's lawyer, Pierce Dalton. The man seemed to have everything a lawyer could find of value: opulent offices, the most expensive suit money could buy, a bevy of secretaries, each more fashionable and gorgeous than the next. He was the head of his own firm, and he handled trial cases for the defense as well as corporate and personal finances, if you could afford him. Apparently, he was extremely successful, which meant there must be many a man walking the streets in his debt, both financially and otherwise.

  Dalton was as straightforward as he was tall, telling them that he had already talked to the cops on several occasions and had opened Judge Mootry's books for them.

  “Detectives Pardee and Amelford, you mean?” asked Meredyth.

  “Yeah, that's them. Apparently, they're some steps ahead of you two.”

  “Did you see the judge the night of his death?” asked Lucas.

  “As I told the other detectives, I was booked on a flight that night to San Diego. You can check it out if you like.”

  “Then you didn't have a drink with him that night?”

  “No, I hadn't seen the old gentleman for several days.” Dalton was cool, unperturbed.

  “We learned recently that you and the judge went back a long way, back to college days, actually, Texas Christian,” Meredyth said like a well-mannered snake, striking with aplomb.

  “That's right. That's why the judge trusted me.”

  “You're so much younger than he was, yet you were at the university together, same fraternity.”

  “I was a boy wonder. Graduated from high school at eleven. I was much younger than everyone in my fraternity.”